Free Fall at Angel Creek, page 22
Bill watched her sort through the box. “I asked her why she kept those beads, and she said, ‘Because they’re important to Dee, and she’ll want them.’ Ready to go?”
“I guess so.”
They climbed into the van and drove to the Elk Grove cemetery. Today was the day they would put Naomi to rest. They had an urn with her name on it and remembrances of Naomi from each of them inside it. When they found the wall, a group of teenagers was waiting for them. They were all in bright clothing and holding rainbow-colored balloons.
“What’s this?” Dee asked.
“These are the kids from the group home Mama founded,” Taylor answered.
Bill added, “It’s for homeless LGBTQ kids.”
Her baby sister surprised her again. Naomi had turned their family dysfunction into a chance for hope for these kids. Dee’s heart was filled with pride and longing as she watched their rainbow balloons ascend into a perfect blue sky. She felt Naomi’s spirit ride them into Heaven.
When they returned home, the house seemed brighter. Dee was thankful her grief had lessened and relieved both girls were okay. “There’s one more letter from your mom that I was saving. Want me to read it to you?”
“Yes,” they all answered.
Dee opened the last letter in Naomi’s pink suitcase, the one in the new envelope.
Dear Sissy,
I don’t know why I still write to you after all this time. I guess it’s because I feel like I’m talking to you. Daddy’s getting real bad. He doesn’t know who I am, and he shouts like he used to on the courthouse steps in Killeen. He won’t let me turn off the light at night. The hospice ladies have been so sweet to him, even when he yells at them. He’s a pain in the ass to the bitter end!
I wish you were here to go through this with me, but I know I can’t look for you until he’s gone. He would freak out if he saw you, and I don’t want you to remember him like this. Don’t hate him, Dee. In the end, he was a scared little man, afraid to stand before God and account for his life.
I miss you and I love you forever, Squirt
Dee held Naomi’s last letter to her heart. “And I love you too, Squirt.”
* * *
Day 25
River was pleased her housecleaning was going well. Without the burden of work, she sorted through every room, threw out half of the contents, donated what was left, and kept only a few clothes, plus her pictures.
She’d come across some boxes in the attic that belonged to her grandfather. Now that the house was cleaned out, she had time to sit down and open them. In the first box, right on top, carefully wrapped in old newspaper, was her mom’s favorite bowling trophy. She smiled holding it in her hands and remembering the night her mom won it.
They were in their smoky neighborhood bowling alley, and her team had just won the league championship. Mom was the high scorer, and she jumped up and down with joy in her red-and-gray bowling shirt. What a great night. River held the trophy to her heart, then wiped off the dust and set it in her “Keep” box.
Her mom’s competitive spirit was one of their strongest connections. Even though she was a flower child from the Sixties, a free spirit, and a brilliant woman, she always had to be the best. River inherited this trait in abundance, and it had served her well at the US Air Force Academy, in pilot training, and during her doctoral program. Most of the other items in the box brought back happy memories with her mother until she came across her parents’ divorce papers. When her family broke up was the first time love was taken from her.
After that, River and her mother moved to Denver to live with her grandparents. Their house had been her safe place to land after the divorce, then after the plane crash, and after the air force took away her flying. This was where she’d come to patch herself up, deal with another loss, and grow strong enough to stand up and put one foot in front of the other.
Something was different now. She was no longer willing to accept the role of brave survivor who suffered with quiet stoicism, while learning more resilience as she went on with her life. This time River would not let Dee end up in her pile of losses, not while she could still fight for her. She’d respected Dee’s orders not to contact her, but now she needed to take action. Her mother’s voice rang in her ears. “Go for it!” She picked up a pad of paper.
* * *
Day 30
“This came for you today.” Bill handed her an envelope.
Dee took it and recognized River’s neat handwriting. I can’t face this right now.
“Who’s it from, Aunt Dee?” Taylor was watching her.
“Just a friend.”
She put the letter away in her room. She wanted to rip it open and consume River’s words, but she had to steel herself before she could read it. She was starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. Grief no longer overwhelmed her every day. She’d learned so much about the amazing life Naomi had, and she was grateful for her memories.
Dee didn’t want to risk derailing her progress by thinking about River right now. She needed to wait a while longer before she dealt with that whole situation.
* * *
Day 44
After River listed the house, it sold in three days, and now she was doing her final inspection before she turned it over to the new owners. She’d thought it would be hard to say good-bye to the old place, but it no longer felt like home. She was ready to let go and move on to something else. Though she wasn’t exactly sure what that was, she was optimistic. The only thing missing was Dee.
She’d almost called Dee a thousand times in the last two weeks and was eager to know if she’d gotten her letter. She also wanted to know how everything was with Naomi’s family. She really missed hearing Dee’s voice. She missed everything about Dee, but not talking to her was excruciating.
She was flying to Los Angeles to interview for a professorship at USC but wasn’t sure it was the right fit. She couldn’t commit to anything until she heard from Dee, and so far, only silence. River could stay in a holding pattern for a long time, but at some point she had to accept the reality that Dee was done with her. For the moment, she would continue to wait for Dee as long as she could.
* * *
Day 45
Dee knew it was time to go home and get on with her own life. She’d loved her time with Bill, Brin, and Taylor, and they’d become a real family. They’d had a beautiful funeral for Naomi, the girls had a good therapist, and Dee knew she could call them whenever she needed to. She had only one more thing to do—open the letter from River.
Dee opened the envelope carefully, took out the letter, and smoothed the folds. Seeing River’s handwriting made her heart race.
Dear Dee,
I hope reading Naomi’s letters has brought you closer to her. You’ve survived so much already, and I know you have the strength and the grace to get through this. I was wrong when I underestimated you, and I hope you can forgive me. You and I both know we have something very special, and I don’t want to lose you. I want my life to be with yours. If you’re willing to take a chance with me, meet me at the dedication of the Flight 402 Memorial at Madras airport.
I love you,
River
She sat on the side of the bed, rocking back and forth. “Oh, River.”
Then she heard a soft knock at her door. Taylor was standing before her.
“Are you all right, Aunt Dee?”
“I wish I could talk to your mama. She always had great common sense.”
“Maybe you could talk to me. Mama said I was a good listener. Are you upset because of the lady on TV?”
“What lady on TV?”
“Your special friend, Dr. Dawson. She’s the one who sent you a letter, isn’t she? I saw her name on the envelope.”
“You’re a very good detective, Taylor.”
“Thank you. So why are you upset about your friend?”
Dee hesitated. She didn’t really want to go into her romantic life with a thirteen-year-old.
“Well, Dr. Dawson, I mean, River—that’s her name—is more than a special friend to me.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“My girlfriend? How do you know about that?”
“Mama told me everything. I know what all the letters mean in LGBTQ, she told me about safe sex, and I even know about birth control. So is she your girlfriend or not?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Dee’s head was swimming.
“If Mama was here, I think she would ask you, ‘Are you in love with her?’”
Dee knew without question, after everything they’d been through together, that she was.
“Yes, I am.”
“Then I’m pretty sure Mama would say that you need to tell her. She always told us, ‘Life is too short to miss out on the miracle.’”
She pulled Taylor into a hug. “You are a very smart girl, and I’m so proud to be your aunt.”
Dee had learned so much about love and forgiveness from Naomi and her family. She now understood what it was like to be part of a loving, accepting family. She didn’t know if it was possible, but she wanted this kind of family for herself, and she could no longer deny she wanted this family with River. She pulled out her phone and sent River a text.
I’m coming home. I’ll meet you at the dedication in two days.
* * *
River felt her phone buzz before she boarded her flight to Los Angeles. When she took it out of her pocket, she saw the text from Dee and stopped.
“Dr. Dawson, are you boarding?” The gate agent was calling her.
She smiled. “Not this plane. When’s the next flight to Portland?”
“It leaves in fifteen minutes, gate B17, on the other side of the concourse. I’ll switch your ticket.”
“Thanks so much.”
River ran over to B17, giddy with excitement, and boarded the plane just before they closed the door. She had no idea what to expect when she saw Dee again. She didn’t know if Dee would say “Good-bye and get out of my life” or “I love you.” This could be the best day of her life, or the worst.
* * *
Day 47
Dee was nervous driving out to Madras Municipal airport. She’d never expected to step foot in this place again. She still didn’t know what she’d say to River when she saw her, but she had to face her. Walking toward the small terminal, she saw a large crowd assembled on the tarmac, many in uniform; Oregon State Police, Portland Air National Guard, Civil Air Patrol, Relax Air employees, and then she saw River. She was more striking than she’d ever seen her, with sunlight on her golden hair. Instead of her familiar flannel shirt, she was wearing a tailored black suit and looked gorgeous.
River spotted her and made a beeline to her. “Thanks for coming. I’m so happy to see you. The team is over here, or they have chairs up front for family members.”
“I’ll stand with you guys.”
The team members waved at her as the ceremony started. There were a few short speeches, with Ronald Moore giving one, and then they pulled a cord to reveal the Flight 402 Memorial.
The crowd was silent as they took it in. It was simple and elegant, with wings carved into a large granite stone and the names of all the passengers and crew engraved underneath, as if they were sheltered by the wings.
She reached for River’s hand. “Let’s find her name.”
The mood was somber but also reverent. As they got closer, Dee saw a brass ring at the base of the monument. “What is that, River?”
“It’s a compass rose with the monument on a three-one-zero-degree heading to Portland, their destination.”
“It’s like they’re flying into the sunset. It’s magnificent.”
Looking up at the wings against the blue sky, Dee felt lifted up with Naomi. They would never be separated again because her sister’s love lived on inside her.
She turned to River, “We need to talk. I wasn’t going to come here, but I couldn’t ignore you anymore.”
“Would it be okay if we drove out to Angel Creek to talk?” River asked.
“Sure.”
When they arrived, they got out of the car, and River turned to her. “So why are you here? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“I’m here because you and I understand loss and because we’re both survivors. I know you didn’t intentionally try to hurt me, and I’ve learned a lot about forgiveness, for my family, and for myself. I want you to know I forgive you, and you cannot judge me based on your own experience.”
River let out a little laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re pretty hot when you get stern.”
Dee couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I believe we were meant to find each other. The question is, are we willing to take the risk to make this work? Facing Naomi’s death taught me to value my own life and to be willing to take a chance. I think you’re worth the risk.”
River looked into her eyes. “I’ve wasted years running away from love, and I’m done with that. Dee, I need you, and I love you.”
Dee’s future lay before her, and she reached for River. “I love you too, and I want to make my life with you.”
A full smile spread across River’s face. “I know you hate surprises, but I hope you’ll like this one.”
She handed Dee a cardboard box. She opened it and found a flat square wrapped in gold paper. “What is this?”
“This is from my favorite poem, ‘Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me,’ by Mary Oliver. Open it.”
Dee tore the paper off to reveal a stainless-steel plaque with engraved letters.
“It’s beautiful, River.”
“It represents my hope for a long and wondrous journey with you. Look underneath it.”
She reached into the box and pulled out a folder. Dee opened it and saw a land deed to Angel Creek with both their names on it, and blueprints for a house.
Dee was shocked. “How did you… Never mind.”
She pulled River into a long, deep kiss. Then she stepped back, looked into her sky-blue eyes, and held River’s face. “You are my family now, and I am yours. Let’s build our log-cabin home here.”
About the Author
Julie Tizard (www.JulieTizard.com) is the multi-award-winning author of The Road to Wings, Gold Crown Literary Society 2017 Debut Novel of the Year; and Flight to the Horizon, winner of two Lesfic Bard awards and a finalist for two INDIES awards.
A professional pilot for over forty years, Col. Tizard was one of the earliest women US Air Force pilots. She flew as a T-37 instructor pilot, an aircraft commander on the KC-10 air refueling tanker, an aircraft accident investigator, chief of flight safety, and a Squadron Commander. She served for over twenty-five years.
Captain Julie Tizard was a commercial airline pilot for thirty years and flew the Boeing 737, 757, 767, the Airbus 320, and the DC-10. She was also an instructor pilot and line check airman on the 737 fleet. She also flies a T-67 Firefly, a two-seat military trainer. When not writing about flying or attending air shows, she can be found playing a baritone horn in the local LGBTQ band and traveling like a normal person. Free Fall at Angel Creek is her third novel.
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